Hideous Beauty
by Ephere
Summary: An ugly princess runs away from home, meets others with hideous pasts, and accidently unleashes an ancient force, hungry for blood and vengeance. Infiltrating everyone's souls with mistrust, will the horror never end? Adventures 01 & 02 characters.
1. Puppet of Fate

Hideous Beauty

Hideous Beauty

Disclaimer: I do not own Digimon. If I did,

1.Yolei's outfit would get a complete makeover. 2. Iori would be taller. 3. There'd be **a lot** more than 50 episodes. 4. Silphymon wouldn't look like a humanoid chicken-footed cat-man. 5. Michi no Armor Shinka would be a movie. 6. Wormmon would have an armor form (that was in Adventure 02). 7. Takeru and Iori's DNA digimon wouldn't look like a giant teapot. 8. Miyako wouldn't just be a housewife! 9. Ken would've finished college by age 16. (In the Japanese version, the interviewer says he could go to any college in America he wanted to because of his intellect.) 10. The Daemon threat wouldn't be left hanging. 11. Ken and Kari would get married.

Recognize all of those symptoms and I might've won the lottery. (Not that I play the lottery).

I only own the plot & story, so don't sue, don't steal. Thanks.

It is a commonly known fact that in fairytales, the princesses are always beautiful, pretty, or fairest in the land. But surely it is not possible for every princess to be born blessed with such a gift? 'Tis not, for mankind is far from perfect. But what of those princesses without the privilege of beauty? Here is a tale of the ugly princess that was recognized by the beauty in her heart.

Yet this princess wasn't the picture of perfection in personality either, not quite the innocent, kind-hearted, oh-so-gentle, nature-loving, petite, damsel-in-distress girl. She was feisty, short-tempered, and had an unpredictable anger that flickered up every so often. Our princess had a sharp tongue and biting words. The complete opposite of the fairy tale ones. And this is her story.

Magnolia petals swayed gently with the breeze. The wind sang in excited whispers, softly caressing every flower bud before gingerly plucking a few petals to carry away with it. The lost petals followed the wind, tens of hundreds swirling together to create a whirlpool simulation. Mayhap they were celebrating something, performing their ballet for some occasion? Indeed they might've been.

The petals flew into an open balcony window, ushered by a gust of wind and landed on the edge of a cradle. As if stopping to admire the new born girl that they were dancing for the birth of, the petals ceased their traveling and the wind abandoned its blowing. They then gathered in the wind, swiveling around the head of the slumbering girl; awed of her delicate white skin, scarlet lips and long lashes. The child was gorgeous—a worthy ruler of the Inoue Kingdom. Her name was Miyako.

As the years passed, young Princess Miyako grew prettier and prettier. By the tender age of six, she was utterly angelic of face. She had beautiful lavender tresses that cascaded past her shoulders, glittering eyes that sparkled in dazzling shades of chocolate amber. With her pale flawless skin and charming smile, she was truly something from a fairytale.

Yet as her age progressed, nature and fate decided to jerk the strings.

By age ten Miyako's lavender locks no longer shined, but became of a dull sheen, and frizzy like straw, often sticking up at odd angles and completely untamable. No one knew what had brought on this change. Three years later, Miyako's skin had become red and splotchy, and she was no longer porcelain pale. Freckles dotted her face and her nose became larger and rounder. The petite mouth she was used to grew disproportionately bigger.

At age sixteen, Miyako became horrible to gaze upon. Her gait was no longer graceful, but almost always clumsy and stumbling. Her parents and sister became ashamed of her, but she herself was the most disgraced. Still the suitors came, but mostly for her position, not her. Yet one glimpse at her, and even the most determined suitor left. Miyako often wept and raged, cursing her fate and throwing anything within her reach to quell her fury.

At this, the king finally snapped and locked her away in a smaller castle outside the borders of the kingdom, There, Miyako had six servants who served her in shifts. She was desperately miserable and so depressed she began to contemplate suicide.

One night, unable to bear the anger of her father, the confinement to this solitary asylum, the loneliness and misery, she escaped under the cover of night after slipping her sleeping pills into the servants' drinks. Miyako managed to stuff her satchel with a few loaves and some cheese, and smothered ashes on the scrappiest cloak she had to avoid being recognized. She pulled together a satchel of her belongings and snuck out through the window, nimbly albeit clumsily slipping down the magnolia tree next to her window. Miyako left through the back entrance.

She wandered about in the nearby forest, stumbling through the underbrush in hopes of getting to the castle. With a sudden wave of misery, Miyako realized that she'd be punished and sent back. She couldn't live in the town either, for she'd be recognized. Heartbroken, she trudged in the direction of the neighboring kingdom.

Miyako meandered in the forest for many days, hopelessly lost. However, her luck held and Miyako was able to find a safe shelter every night and had no meetings with any forest predators and she was able to find food when her supply became low. Miyako hadn't the faintest idea where she was and continued forward until one night, when the moon was a waxing gibbon.

She had been in the forest for about four days, and longed for company and a bed. Miyako was contemplating going home, mumbling misery, when overhead, the sky darkened and thick black clouds fat with rain audibly moved in. Glimpsing the gloomy sky above her, Miyako gingerly pulled up her hood, kept her head down and quickened her pace. One by one the innocent raindrops fell on her face and combined with her tears, sliding down her cheeks.

'_How lucky the raindrops are,'_ she thought. '_They are all made the same, all perfectly beautiful, worry-free in their brief existence and then combining into one, always careless.' _

Thinking of home, of her family and of her loyal servant friends, Miyako soon grew regretful and exhausted. Yet it was too late to turn back, for soon night would be upon her, and she was in the thickest part of the forest. Exhausted, Miyako found shelter underneath a large dead-looking tree with twisting branches that snaked far into the sky, looming ominously by the forest trail. She took no notice of it and plunked down at the base of the trunk, glad for shelter and rest.

Digging in her small bag of provisions, she removed a stale slice of bread and a small hunk of cheese. Miyako turned the bag inside out and a few crumbs spilled into her lap.

"Oh well. I guess I'll have to find more when these clouds go away."

Very sparingly, she began to nibble at her meager rations and gazed up at the snaking branches that torturously twisted above her head, taking childish delight from trying to discern certain pictures in them. She had found a dog with two tails, a chicken with a big head, a shoe with a really long heel and a crown before she discovered that her face was wet with tears.

Miyako sat silently; engrossed in deep thought before a sudden distant jolt of lightning brought her to her senses. She gathered the cloak tighter around herself and looked up in annoyance as the leafy canopy began to drip.

'_What a fool I am. To leave home and wander into the forest.'_ Miyako thought bitterly. As if agreeing with her, a particularly large bolt of lightning crackled and lit up the sky, sending more pouring rain to beat upon the thoroughly drenched ground.

The atmosphere became considerably colder and Miyako determined that sitting underneath a very tall, very old, very combustible, maybe dead tree during a wild lightning storm, no matter how little shelter it provided, could be very deadly. She clumsily scrambled from the shade of the tree and stalked glumly to try and find shelter elsewhere. Miyako found a small rocky overhang and gratefully plopped down under it, not caring in the least about the dampness of the ground.

The rain continued ceaselessly for the next few hours, and Miyako soon lost track of time. To pass the storm, she began to sing to herself. Despite having no beauty and negative grace, Miyako had a pleasant voice that was ill fitted with her face. One of the songs she remembered best from her childhood was the one that the nurse sang to her once in a thunderstorm.

"_Have courage my soul, and let us journey on. Though the night is dark, and I am far from home…"_

Miyako paused in realization that she had forgotten the next part. Improvising, she launched into the chorus, feeling sleepy. "_Hallelujah, Hal-le-lu-jah…" _Miyako continued singing quietly, feeling her eyelids droop. Despite her words, the storm did not yield, but continued its reign.

"…_The morning light appears…" _Miyako finished her song as she drifted off to slumber, forgetting the warnings about predators of the night. As the last tone of her song finished ringing, a loud baying broke the pattering applause rhythm of the rain. Miyako heard the sound, but her eyes rebelliously closed. '_Oh well. I've outlived my welcome. Thank you, mum and dad, for giving me life. Thank you, Moemoe for tolerating me. No longer shall I plague this world with my existence. May the gods pity me in heaven.' _Miyako smiled, despite her broken heart and lapsed into a peaceful slumber she knew she'd never awake from.

Several pairs of golden piercing eyes blinked brightly in the brush, slowly closing in. Padded paws swiftly stepped through the tangled floor, silent as night. They surrounded their prey, eager and blissful to find such easy prey. The largest, gray of coat and fierce of face, stepped up to the sleeping food and curled his lips upward in a ferocious grin, revealing sharp canines. The signal. They stalked forward, stealthy as the dark. They lunged.

A/N: Yay! My first fanfiction! Please review! I just want one review as motivation to type the next chapter! One to know that somebody wants me to continue! Please! The alliteration at the end was not intended. Did you notice?

What will happen to Miyako? Does anyone miss her? Will fate be nicer to her? Does she die? Will the rating go up? (probably not) Will I ever stop asking questions and trying (unsuccessfully) to get you hooked? (and hopefully review). Sorry this story kinda stinks.

Okay, sorry Miyako fans that she's the ugly princess. Oh well. Maybe I'll let her be pretty by the end. No, I'm not saying Miya's ugly! She just is in this fic! Hmm, who's next?

One review for the next chapter! One! (If you flame, please have a reason!)

Disclaimer: I do not own the song 'The Storm is Passing Over'.


	2. Beginning Anew

Chapter 2:

Disclaimer: I do not own the song 'The Storm is Passing Over'. Forgot to mention that. Oopsies. Sorry for being so late! I didn't get enough time and then I got sick and had a headache. It still kinda hurts, so forgive me if I have mistakes.

Miyako awoke to a sharp ache in her side and a horrid stinging sensation in her limbs. "Oww…" she moaned as her weighty eyelids slid open lethargically, rewarding her with a blurry vision. Heaven wasn't supposed to be painful. Her back groaned in protest as she tried to push the upper half of her body up.

There was something soft beneath her fingers, and she gently pushed down, surprised when it yielded. Maybe this was heaven, and she was on a cloud. Her fingers stumbled blindly along the soft material, fumbling for her glasses. (A/N: I feel the need to give Miyako glasses, so I'm going to push back the invention of glasses several um… years. Wearable glasses were invented in 1284. Never mind.) The material was too hard and solid to be a cloud.

Miyako squinted into the darkness. The lighting was very dim, but she could tell that she was lying on something like a cot. It was definitely too hard to be heaven. Trying to discern the whereabouts of her glasses and the nature of her surroundings, Miyako sniffed the air. Nose twitching slightly like a rabbit; Miyako inhaled a strange aroma. It wasn't unpleasant, just oddly familiar and… outdoorsy? Still unable to use her traitorous eyes, she continued smelling the air, trying to place what it reminded her of.

It was the smell of the wind, fresh, fierce, and frigid. Something like rainwater or a spring, Miyako added to the list. This was not heaven. She supposed that heaven might smell that way, but she'd expected something sweeter. Miyako leaned forward in her bed, feeling her hand make contact with the edge of something wooden. Her hand snapped back out of pure reflex and instinct, but soon it ventured to reach out to the thing again.

The back of her palm collided with the edge, and this time Miyako squinted heavily into the darkness and patted down the length of whatever the piece of furniture was, most likely a nightstand. Her fingers suddenly bumped into a cold thin frame, and Miyako grabbed her glasses and jammed them onto her face.

As her eyes adjusted, Miyako could discern that the bed she sat on was a mattress made of plant fibers—possibly bamboo—and stuffed with something squishy. There were a few pillows made of the same material and the blanket that half-covered her pooled into her lap, shaded in a deep blue. Miyako raised her eyes to the walls. The room was a modest size, very barren in terms of furniture. The walls seemed to be a dull gray in the dim light and a lonely nightstand stood beside her bed. In the corner sat a secluded desk, and the light source was perched atop its surface. Except for the small lamp, no papers or anything was on it. Strangely enough, Miyako felt safe and warm instead of scared or fearful.

The rustle of a door opening swiftly alerted Miyako to whip around with lightning speed. The light flooded in from the hallway, bathing the dark room in brightness temporarily. She then suppressed a gasp, for standing in the doorway was a youth, about her own age, that radiated power. He was porcelain-faced, with the most enigmatic amethyst eyes she'd ever seen. Midnight blue hair cascaded halfway down his neck, framing a gorgeous face, and he was attired in deepest black robes decorated with an exquisite blue and white flower insignia perfectly symmetrical and equally exotic on his chest.

Miyako felt her cheeks begin to burn and felt herself sink lower under the covers, unconsciously shying away from this magnificent creature. She pulled the sheets up to secure her furiously flushing face that betrayed her. Walking across the room with frightening grace and the unmistakable dignity of gods, he stopped at the foot of her bed.

"Pardon my rude entrance and inhospitable ways. Please don't be frightened; I mean you no harm. How do you feel?" Miyako felt her face heat up again and yanked the covers higher. This time the flush was brought on by embarrassment. Her face was more hideous than an ogre in comparison! It wasn't fair that one could be gifted with beauty, grace, and a melodic voice!

"Please, don't be afraid. I won't hurt you." He gestured with his hands in what Miyako supposed was sign language. (A/N: I will push back the invention of sign language as well! Hooray for black holes and quantum theory!) "Are you mute or deaf?" Miyako snapped from the trance of watching his graceful hands; slender and long pale fingers weaving patterns in the air.

"I—I—I, um, thank you. I feel fine." Miyako looked down, feeling blood tint her ears scarlet. The boy frowned, silken eyebrows furrowing in worry. "Do you have a fever?" he asked, lifting an alabaster hand to push the back of it against his forehead. "Even your ears are red." At this, Miyako furiously shook her head, forcing him to remove his hand. But that touch felt so…enjoyable. It was ice cold, yet soft and warm, contradictory in her senses.

"So…would you mind informing me as to your identity, homeland, and reason for being in the deepest part of the forest?" Miyako inhaled deeply, fighting to control her color. The youth noticed and quickly headed for the doorway. "Perhaps you need some nourishment." Miyako could only stare at his retreating back, seeing his feet glide effortlessly across the floor. She realized that she was indeed hungry and thirsty, having last eaten…a long time ago. A frown on her face, she began analyzing the events last ni…a long time ago. There were wolves, and she was going to die. Then, maybe he saved her?

Interrupting her thoughts by setting a tray laden with a teapot, a cup, a bowl, some butter, and a loaf of bread, he caught her gaze. "Really. You can trust me. You are free to come and go as you wish, but I'd advise against it. You've acquired multiple injuries and the forest outside is hazardous." He pulled up a chair that Miyako had never noticed and elegantly situated on it. Miyako supposed it'd be courteous to introduce herself first. " I'm Miyako, from the Inoue Kingdom. I…I…was running away from home." She fidgeted with the blanket before losing another battle to the blush that quickly colored her face as she felt his intense gaze on her.

The boy looked concerned before resubmitting his face to the emotionless state. "Please pardon my inquisition, but why did you run away?" Miyako looked down at the tray and inhaled deeply. She wouldn't cry, and she wasn't going to blush. "My appearance disgraces my family," Miyako whispered quietly. Part of her hoped that he wouldn't catch that.

Unfortunately, Lady Luck decided she had had her fair share. "Your…appearance?" He seemed genuinely confused. "My face. I'm hideous, and everyone's ashamed of me. I can't do anything right, I'm clumsy and absolutely useless!" Tears tumbled down the landscape of her reddened cheeks befor Miyako even realized her eyes were wet.

She closed her eyes to squeeze out the rest of the moisture and to cut off the supply. A cold finger brushed away a few of the salty bitter tears. "Please don't cry. You're far from hideous, trust me. I think you're pretty. No one's useless. Everyone plays a part in fate's cycle." He gave her a tight, strained smile and finally her eyes ran dry.

"I'm sorry. Thank you. Umm, where am I? And, who are you?" she asked, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. "I'm Ken. You're in my home, located in the Forest of Senkad near the Yagami King and the Kido Kingdom." Miyako noticed that he gave no last name either, showing that he didn't trust her too. Eventually Miyako contended herself by asking things such as what day it was, how long she'd been sleeping, what had happened that night, and so on. Eventually he awarded her with a tight smile and an ill-aimed attempt at sarcasm, asking her to find a less painful (and complicated) way to die.

She hadn't quite cared as much as she was expected to about the answer, but continued asking just to hear his voice. She began nibbling on the food, enjoying the rougher texture of the bread, the exotic tang of the tea and the savory flavor of the soup. "Why are you all alone? Or are there any others living here?" Miyako blurted without thinking. When he didn't respond, she realized that she might've hit a sensitive spot. "I'm sorry! You don't have to answer. I've been really lousy in manners, and—," she abruptly cut off as he tipped several drops of the contents of a vial into her teacup.

"Medicine," he mumbled. She complied and quickly swallowed the tea, hoping the medicine might be sleep inducing. Feeling nothing, Miyako continued to investigate Ken, asking things concerning status, occupation, and which king he served. "I've low social status and serve neither king." Miyako, feeling hyper because of the medication, continued probing about what he was, not noticing the sharp edge in his voice, or the emotionless tint in his eyes.

"Come on, you must be something. I think, by the way you're dressed and your know-how with herbs and such, you might be a healer, right?" Miyako grinned, beginning to feel a wave of loquaciousness. Seeing her ignorance at perception, Ken pressed his lips into a thin line and the emotionless mask was once again plastered. "I guess you could call it that. Loosely translated a few times, I suppose that is what I am. Try to get some rest. Your wounds need to heal."

Miyako flung the blanket off her legs with extra energy and rolled the right pant leg up mid-thigh and winced. Half of the shin was covered in bandages and her knee was wrapped with a poultice. Gingerly pulling the left one up, she relaxed slightly. Only the ankle was bandaged, and none too much red was visible. Luckily, Ken probably had experience and numbing medicine.

"You'll need to change bandages every six hours. Make sure that the compress is replaced daily with the correct dosage and take medicine twice every four hours. By the way, you might also want to check your arm and shoulders." Miyako paled and speedily furled her right sleeve and turned whiter still. A bulky bandage was swathed other her shoulder socket, but blood was visibly seeping through and the wound underneath would obviously hurt once the numbing medicine wore off. Turning to her left arm, she shot the sleeve up and grimaced.

Halfway down her upper arm the bandage began, covered her elbow and ended in the middle of her forearm, no blood showing. She lifted the edge of her robe and the bottom of her blouse to see a purple bruise on her stomach beneath her ribcage. "Ouch," Miyako concurred, looking up. "When will it start hurting?" Glancing briefly toward a black disk on the wall, he calmly regarded her. "Approximately thirty-two minutes. I'm out of tranquilizer." Miyako winced at the word that made her feel as if she were some sort of animal. Her attention was then transferred to the black disk. It was apparently a device to keep track of time with. The disk was smooth black marble, missing about a ninth size slice.

He spoke again. "Please try to quell the pain. I'll have to…restock. Stay quiet, don't make noises, and don't open doors to strangers—or anyone. I'll be back in an hour at most." Miyako absentmindedly nodded and continued staring at her wounds before the meaning of the words dawned on her. "Hey! I'm not a child! Don't talk that way!" He smirked and turned heel to stride effortlessly to the door in a fluid motion. Miyako felt her cheeks redden—no, not in embarrassment—but anger. Here he was, no older, possibly even younger, than she and chiding her like a toddler. She'd find some way to get revenge.

"If I'm not back by sundown, run to the nearest town and leave," he closed the door before Miyako could question. _Okay, maybe he just needed a really nice way to say, "I don't want to take care of you, so go home." _Miyako thought miserably. There she had let her evil tongue slip again. Dropping the issue, Miyako dug around in the pockets of her robes and found a few sleeping pills remaining. Not up to feeling pain, she popped them into her mouth and poured herself more tea and chased down the bitter tablets with a swig of it. Stifling a yawn, she removed her glasses and snuggled into the blankets, inhaling the crisp scent of harsh wind. She drifted into a dreamless slumber.

She awoke to someone briskly shaking her. Half opening her eyes, she was rewarded with a blurred image and swatted at the hands groggily, missing entirely. The shaking intensified and Miyako began to mumble about earthquakes and groaned as the vibrating increased. "W-what? Who…?" The fuzzy outline of a person came into focus. Miyako sat up and grabbed her glasses off the nightstand and wearily slid them onto her nose. A stern-expressioned Ken glared at her and another round of blushing promptly on cue. "Um…hi. Is something wrong?" Ken continued glowering, with eyes radiating daggers. Miyako flinched.

"What's wrong, she asks. She drugs herself and asks what's wrong. Have you no knowledge on medicine? You just pushed all consideration of the term counter-reaction or side effects aside? Honestly! You just took heavy pain medication that is risky by itself on crosshairs with sleep medication. I know I asked you to find a less painful way to suicide, but if there are side effects to your risky combination, they could cripple you for life but not be lethal in any way. Don't you know that taking any pills with medicine you don't know the contents of could…" Ken sighed and pushed his fingers to his temple, pressing and exhaling.

"Sorry, I just…here." Ken set the tray that had taken a temporary residence on the desk onto her lap. Miyako felt her eyes sting. She bit her tongue and focused on the medicine. A hideous green color that smelled bitter. Miyako swallowed the contents and looked over at Ken, whom currently had his fists clenched, knuckles white. "I'm sorry. I'm just ignorant, and I don't really know about this stuff. I always look before I leap. I don't consider, you see, I'm really rash."

The medicine left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth, and she waited for response. None came. Miyako shifted uncomfortably in the silence. A knocking on the door finally shattered the quiet. Ken silently got up and went to the door. "Stay here and be quiet. If I tell you to run, open the window and do it. Don't look back, and don't stop no matter what."

A/N: I dunno why, but I just felt like putting this here to annoy you people. Please please review, and I'm currently on a large writer's block. I'm well aware that 'expressioned' is not a word. Phooey on it. This story might not be Kenyako. As for the suggestion of Koumi, I think I'll need some feedback on whether that'd be good. Any other suggestions are welcome! I'm really sorry

Michi e no Armor Shinka


	3. Echo of Laughter

Miyako shifted on the bed, going through Ken's odd instructions

A/N: Gomen! Sorry it took so long!

Miyako shifted on the bed, going through Ken's odd instructions. Outside, she could detect faint noises of conversation and the telltale squeak of the front door. Miyako peered through the window. It was a four-foot drop, a distance that might be difficult in her current condition. There was a plant bed underneath the window that might help to cushion her fall should she need so. Footsteps sounded once again in the hallway, causing Miyako to tense.

"Miyako, we have a visitor. Would you care to be introduced?" Ken's voice carried through the door.

Miyako relaxed and responded with a small yes. The door swept open and Miyako could see another youth standing beside Ken. Ken first walked in, followed by the stranger. Miyako noted that the contrast between Ken's graceful, agile gait and the other's clumsy albeit proud style was great. The youth had tanned skin with an auburn-ish wine colored head of spiky hair that stuck up in odd angles and a handsome, friendly face.

His step had a spring to it and boasted much pride so although it was ungainly, it gave a regal impression. There was a slight limp in his step, and it was obviously given effort to disguise. He was of medium height, about the same as Ken. His face was split into a wide grin, obviously a seasoned and experienced one that was often used. His eyes were a beautiful warm chocolate, a pair that echoed bliss and happiness that seemed to leak contagious joy. The stranger was attired in brown robes of a normal cut and black riding pants underneath. A pair of finely constructed goggles was parked in his hair above the forehead.

Miyako smiled in reply and then quickly flushed upon remembering what she looked like smiling. He spoke. "Hi! I'm Daisuke Motomiya, friend of Ken's. Seventh level knight, at your service! Who're you?" Miyako couldn't help but grin at his cheery and light speech. "I'm Miyako, from the Inoue Kingdom." Daisuke held out a calloused hand, obviously from long hours of practice with lance and sword. Miyako placed her hand in his, delighting in the warm sensation of rough skin, willing to shake in friendly greeting.

Daisuke, however, had a different idea. He held her hand up to his mouth and kissed it gently, soft lips brushing against the back of her palm, sweeping in a small bow. Miyako promptly turned tomato red and stuttered out 'honored'.

Daisuke bounced up with the full energy of a spring and grinned crookedly at Ken, whose expression remained the same, plain and normal, which Miyako thought impossible in Daisuke's presence.

"Whaddya think? Did Iori do a good job, or what?" Ken nodded lightly and chuckled.

"I can't believe it. Iori managed to teach you etiquette. I guess I owe him."

Daisuke frowned in disbelief, a playful pout tugging to be revealed.

"What? You guys were betting on me? And you bet _against_ me? Urgh! And I thought you believed in me! That's what you said!"

Miyako rather unsuccessfully tried to hold back laughter at Daisuke's offended complaining and let a giggle escape. Daisuke's head automatically served to her, face frozen mid-complaint. Ken followed suit, minus the expression. Miyako, finding the attention rather embarrassing, presented a brilliant display of hues of scarlet. Daisuke exploded in a smile.

"Yeah! Score one for me! I bet she hasn't laughed yet in front of you! Always so gloomy and scary," he exclaimed, giving Ken a playful shove and then regaining a serious expression.

"Has she…seen? Have you told her?" Daisuke looked from Ken to Miyako.

"No. Why do you think I still have on?" Ken shook his head.

Miyako frowned and tilted her head in an inquiring position.

"What're you guys talking about? What haven't I seen? Show me!"

Daisuke nodded. "A wise teacher once said: 'Tell me, and I will forget, show me, and I may remember. Involve me and I will learn.'" Daisuke nodded again sagely.

Ken cocked an eyebrow. "A little out of context. You've been waiting to say that, haven't you? How many times did Iori have to repeat it to drill it in?"

Daisuke hmphed and made sweeping gestures with his hands, the universal gesture for 'go on, go on'.

Ken frowned. "I don't think she needs to know. It might be better if she doesn't."

"Oh great, now you've really stoked my curiosity. I need to know! I won't stop and I won't sleep until I found out! Why all the secrecy? Just show me already, I won't tell," Miyako interjected.

Daisuke gave Ken a meaningful look.

"She's a lass after my own heart. Alright, do you believe in…magic?" Daisuke asked, voice excited.

Miyako nodded. Her kingdom was one that accepted magic. There were scarce few people that didn't, but proof was overwhelming. She'd been raised on fairytales. Daisuke gave a curt nod to Ken, who stepped forth.

"Please don't scream, run, or be afraid."

Ken closed his eyes and stood still. Miyako could see air currents swirling around him and faint waves of energy. He opened his eyes and looked expectantly at Miyako.

She blinked. "Okay…what? That air thing was cool, I guess."

Daisuke's eyes widened. "Nothing? You saw nothing? Okay, what does he look like?"

Miyako gave a general description.

"What'd he look like before?"

"The same."

"Did he always look like that to you?"

"…Yeah." Daisuke paled.

"…"

"Hm, she might possess the Sight," Ken concluded.

Miyako noticed that the swirling had begun again.

"Argh!" Suddenly, Daisuke gave a loud yelp and practically flew against the wall, shaking.

"Agh! Stop that! Creepy!"

Miyako saw no change. "What is? I don't see anything."

Ken shrugged and the air swiveled again. Daisuke exhaled in relief.

"Dude, you know that creeps me out. I…ARGH! Don't do that! Choose something better! Not so scary!"

Miyako blinked in frustration and confusion.

"What'd he do? I can't see anything!"

Ken let the air swirl around one last time before stepping forward.

"You have extremely strong Sight."

Daisuke sniffed in indignation, muttering something along the lines of 'you decide to scare the heck out of me since you can't scare her'. Miyako looked between the two in confusion.

"Really, what happened?"

"First he turns into a Jenny Greentooth and then a Nuckelavee! How can you not see that? I…oh, did you say Sight? Didn't Hikari and Yamato have it too?" Ken nodded.

"Oh yeah. Who're Iori, Hikari, and Yamato?"

Daisuke grinned. "Iori's a short kid that's younger than me, but real strict and serious. Yamato's the brother of our other friend. They disappeared a while back," Daisuke ended with a sad sigh, but then it morphed into a dreamy smile. "Hikari's a really pretty and really nice girl."

Discussion was temporarily discontinued as the laughter in Ken's eyes and Miyako's hushed giggling caused Daisuke to blush slightly. ("What? She is too! Agree with me, Ken!")

Ken looked at the disk on the wall. "Daisuke, will you tell Iori I can't be there today?"

Daisuke gazed sadly at Miyako.

"But I don't wanna leave! I know! Why don't I baby-sit and you can go to Iori!"

Ken hesitated and glanced to Miyako for confirmation. Although a little angered at the term 'baby-sit', Miyako eagerly agreed, but then asked, "Why do you need to go see Iori?"

"I tutor him. Daisuke, the medicine's on the counter, labeled '17' and five drops in thirty minutes, then again four hours after that. Help yourselves to whatever." Ken shut the door and receding footsteps echoed down the hall. Daisuke turned to Miyako.

"So…who are you, really?" Miyako decided she would jump around his loophole and worm some information from him in the meanwhile.

"A bit curious, aren't we?" she taunted, a teasing edge in her voice.

"Well, Ken might've been satisfied with a first name; I'm not. I can tell you're holding something back. You're just like me. When we lie, well…we suck. So we avoid it. We just speak part of the truth. So, spill it," Daisuke stated, leaning back in satisfaction. He perched onto the stool at the foot of her bed with an energetic agility.

"Speaking of Ken, what is he?" Miyako attempted to change the subject. Daisuke didn't fall for the hook.

"Nope. You first. Lemme guess, nobility? Ran away 'cause you didn't wanna marry? Servant? For freedom? Independence? What?"

Miyako and Daisuke spent the next hour trying to pry into the other without much success. Miyako eventually hinted she had run away for freedom, but was of nobler blood than what he had thought. Daisuke had said he was a captain in the Yagami Kingdom's Army, but he had been crippled in combat protecting a fellow knight.

"Lucky for me Iori and Ken were close."

The king hadn't acknowledged his past deeds or feats and hadn't cared much for him. Because of his injury, he was stripped of his stature and position and demoted to a knight. 'The beautiful and fair' Hikari had tried with her brother, Tai, a noble, to bargain with the king, but he wouldn't listen to his niece and nephew.

"He liked sticking to tradition, and according to it, I was too young to be a captain. Another captain recommended me and got lots of people agreeing, and that's why. Iori also had some influence, as he was pretty high up there with the king's advisors, and I got the job. He would've literally jumped had he not been too dignified at the chance to get rid of me. Ah well, that's his loss. I was one of the best he'd had, some told me," Daisuke declared egotistically.

Miyako poked him in the side, causing him to buckle and give her a poisonous, yet good-humored glare. ("Hey! I'm ticklish there! Let's see if you're ticklish there!") Miyako had been spared when she kindly mentioned that she was injured.

Miyako prodded around the subject of Ken, but Daisuke managed to change the subject to Hikari, skipping around the topic of earlier that afternoon and happily chatted away on what swords cut best. Miyako learned that he was exceptional at story telling and often found herself entangled in the webs his smooth and enchanting tone wove. He was also well trained in the art of stalling, which she complimented him on. ("Why thank you!")

The medicine lay forgotten until Miyako began moaning in pain. Of course, it was Daisuke's fault since he was caretaker and it was not the patient's obligation to remember medication. Ken came back a few hours later to an ill-tempered Miyako and an apologetic Daisuke battling in a game of Mancala, Miyako with 7 games won and Daisuke 4.

Miyako and Daisuke ate in her room with the Mancala table on her tray. They later gained Ken as an audience as Miyako captured yet another nine pebbles with and empty cup play. ("I can't believe you didn't see that!" "But I was trying to get that one!") Daisuke concentrated so hard that sweat was beginning to streak down his face in rivulets and gather in droplets at his chin, yet he was still losing, 5 to 26.

Eventually the sky darkened considerably, but the players remained absorbed in their game. Ken sent Daisuke home at twilight, much to the disappointment of a winning-streaked Miyako. The following day, he arrived on time with a deck of cards and the two fought in a game of old maid. This time, Miyako learned about Takeru, an old friend of theirs and Yamato's younger brother. Daisuke seemed averse to discussing his and Hikari's friendship.

"He was nice, I guess, and pretty good at sports. He was blond and my age, but he disappeared months before his brother about three years ago." Miyako had been suspicious when Daisuke won five games in a row, ("Hey, did I get suspicious about you winning 20 games in a row?" "No, but it's impossible to cheat at Mancala!"), and later discovered that he was using the reflection on her glasses when he squinted at her eyes while picking a card.

This time, Daisuke (with Miyako's reminding) remembered the medicine. She talked openly with him because she felt that their personalities were very alike.

"Well, it felt really uncomfortable when Ken said he was out of _tranquilizer_. Does he do that a lot, or did he just say it for me?" Miyako whipped a card out of a frowning Daisuke's hand and gave an irk of disappointment when his face lit up. Jester.

"I can't believe you fell for the old 'if you frown when I touch this card it's safe'! And I dunno about the tranquilizer thing. He just calls it that, I guess," Daisuke said, picking a card. "Rats."

Miyako grinned. "Taste of your own medicine! I can't believe that you fell for it after laughing at me for falling for it!" Daisuke once again resumed talking about Hikari, managing to do it without revealing further hints of social class or occupation. By then Miyako had had a crystal clear albeit redundant picture of Hikari hammered into her cranium.

"And Takeru was what? Did you ever find what happened to him?"

"No, he just vanished without a trace. He was training to be a knight, too. He was pretty good at it, but no way near as good as I was. I used to beat him all the time, but then I pitied him and let him win," Daisuke boasted. Miyako laughed. Daisuke was right; when he lied, he stank. "What? You find it funny almighty Daisuke is proud?" Miyako burst into a fit of giggles.

"Or, as I remember it, the other way around. _He_ was so good that it was _he_ who let _you_ win because it'd be a hollow victory for him," Ken finished from the entrance. Miyako sat back and clutched her sides in laughter as Daisuke began complaining in indignation.

"How long have you been there?"

"I heard you describing Hikari's deserving of a place among goddesses."

"Oh. Which time?"

"…The last time, I think."

Miyako ended up short of breath and with hiccups as she watched Daisuke verbally assaulting Ken with accusations of 'ruining my luck', 'underestimating me', 'I didn't see you beat him repeatedly'. Ken calmly stated that he was not so pathetically hopeless at the time and pointed out that Takeru did not always win either. The matches often ended in the case that both parties became too exhausted and called stalemate.

Daisuke began parading around the room singing a song so completely out of tune and so loudly that it was impossible to recognize, when Ken kindly pointed out that their matches often ended with himself as the victor. Day after day, the same routine continued for a week, with Daisuke arriving with a different game daily and Miyako having to take less medication and gaining progress with healing.

A cookie to those that can guess who said that.

If you are not extremely brave, do not look up these words on encyclopedias/dictionaries with pictures. If you want a completely safe description with no or at least minimum scariness, ask me.

A/N: Terribly sorry how long this took me! My mom wouldn't let me on the computer and then I lost the memory stick this was typed onto and the paper it was written on. Being lazy, I didn't want to redo it. Yes, I am aware that card games (old maid) did not exist in this time period, and I don't believe that Mancala was in their area at the time. Oh well. Please read & review! I need motivation to come up with something!

Next chapter: Meet Hikari and Iori. Miyako explores. Daisuke and Miyako face off in Awari!

Notice: The characters this story is listed for will change. During chapter 2 it was Miyako & Ken, this chapter it is Miyako & Daisuke.


	4. Singed by Jealousy

Review response: I know that Wormmon does have an armor form

Review response: I know that Wormmon does have an armor form. I just meant that if it were up to me to show Digimon, his form would appear in adventure 2 (the animated series). It's Pucchiemon, I believe, or some other spelling. I'm too lazy to look it up. Sorry for confusing anyone.

Agh! Sorry this took so long. First, I had to go visit my cousin in a different state, and we stayed for a day longer than we'd planned. Then, the modem broke and the Internet was down for a week. I lost the story within the depths of my memory stick. It turned into weird symbols, so I tried to open it with something else, but then it closed by itself. Whenever I opened it, it would show one line of the story, and then not be able to respond. Word pad gave me snatches of the story with long intervals of symbols replacing the other words. Finally I found the other copy I saved hugs little voice in head that tells me to save a back-up. I know the last chapter was extremely dull, but trust me; it was as fun to read as it was to write. snore Bear with me! I needed to establish the relationship betwixt Dai & Miya! I despise writing the intros… Don't worry, the objective of this ill-started story will unfold soon.

**Warning: **Daisuke's speech may contain grammatical errors. This is completely purposeful.

Sunlight spilled lazily into the drab gray room, creeping up the walls in vain attempt to brighten the room. More adventurous rays beamed upon the occupant of the room, blinding her with their antics. Miyako ducked her face into the shadows and the sunlight reluctantly retreated from the reflecting home of her lavender hair.

Miyako stretched lethargically, feeling her stiff limbs crack and urged fresh blood to pump quickly through her veins. She stifled a yawn and tested her right leg. To her surprise, there was no longer the searing pain she was used to. Excitedly, she unraveled the bandage with trembling fingers. She gave an odd squeak of joy, seeing that the wound was now only a light scar. Miyako's hand flew to her mouth as she realized the unladylike sound that had escaped her mouth rather loudly.

The door flew open, and in marched a most disheveled and alarmed Daisuke.

"What was that? It sounded like a puking bat! You okay, Miyako?" he asked, brandishing a broomstick threateningly.

Miyako couldn't help but blush. "Um, that was uh…me…" she finished weakly, turning a lovely fuchsia. Daisuke concluded that she was a great consultant on colors; a carnival would plaster itself across her cheeks often.

"So. What was that _unpleasant _sound for?"

Miyako rolled her eyes and pointed at her leg, still loosely clung to by soiled bandages that reeked of various roots. "My last wound has healed."

Daisuke grinned. "Seriously. I could swear you're made of iron or something. I have never seen anyone heal that fast. Hold on. I think I left something in the other room."

Daisuke turned around and hurriedly walked out of the room, leaving the swinging door open. Miyako's gaze happened to wander down. Turning a brilliant scarlet, she realized that she was still dressed in her silk nightgown. _Which just happens to be see-through, _she thought.

Dismissing the thought, she swung her legs nimbly over the side of the bed and recalled her dream. Shifting her weight carefully onto her legs, Miyako twirled off the cot and hummed to the melody that she had dreamt of, seeing the magnificent palaces and lush gardens, laden with vegetation. How good it felt to walk without pain!

She danced gracefully to the drawer, singing in a low whisper and imagined the scent of white magnolias, crimson roses, and the crisp autumn air. She could hear the whisper of the wind in the rushes by the stream and the clear water shone in brilliant rainbows. Without opening her eyes, her fingers wrapped around the knob of the dresser's drawer and gently pulled.

The drawer came open in a low groan and Miyako ceased singing and looked upon the contents. She chose a forest green shirt constructed of fine thin velvet, considering it momentarily in the mirror. Miyako dropped it back in, deciding that it would hint that she was nobility and chose a beige cotton shirt instead.

Moments later, Miyako stood before the mirror, attired in her cotton shirt and black riding pants, a russet dress falling from her waist like a waterfall. She frowned at her reflection and ran a hand through her wild lavender hair. After unsuccessfully tackling it multiple times with a comb, she gave up. The lilac locks sat in place, refusing to be tamed and mocking her.

Peeking into the hallway, Miyako timidly stepped forth. Daisuke had still not returned, and her thirst to explore burned. The hallway wall was whitewashed and chalky, the latter learnt by running a finger along the off-white surface. Miyako could see a dining room, a living room, several other doors, a parlor, and the entrance to a kitchen from where she stood, and, curiosity provoked, she headed to the living room.

The house wasn't large; a cottage, she concluded. All the walls were covered in layers upon layers of whitewash; several places were lathered in the stuff. The living room was sizable enough, Miyako thought. Several wooden bookcases lined the walls, shelves bending from the weight of a large variety of tomes. A wicker chair lounged in the center of the room, surrounded by a couch made from fabric and a wooden loveseat. A polished wood table sat humbly in the middle of the gathering, bearing a few weighty books with ripped binding and plate of black round things; candy, perhaps?

The floor was wooden, although the seating place floor was covered in an elegant carpet, and a few rugs scattered themselves in clever places. Miyako was turning to the living room when a hushed voice caught her attention. Interest affectively provoked, she followed the source of the voice—the kitchen.

She stood next to the doorframe, knowing that she shouldn't, but listened anyway.

"…_retreated."_

"_Why would they? Advantage…theirs."_

"_I don't know. What's important…target. News arrived…pris… escaped."_

"…_inten…joining them?"_

Miyako was utterly confused. The conversation contained a dangerously low amount of nouns, and had no direction. She could identify one of the speakers as Ken, but the other was unknown. He (probably a he) had a smooth and serious tone, one that obviously leaked authority and had strict speech (from what she could make out).

"…your guest?" Miyako was interrupted from her thinking. She froze, contemplating whether to run or stay. She wasn't supposed to be listening.

"Yes, I think that is. Miyako, please come in."

Like a naughty child caught—but still unwilling to admit; Miyako boldly marched in, disproving the theory that she was shy. Ken and his guest—or guests, actually; sat at an elegantly carved round table, mahogany, she guessed. Remembering courtesy, Miyako lifted up the edges of her skirt and dipped in a brief but respectful curtsy.

"A pleasure to meet you," she told the floor.

Miyako looked up at the two guests. The first one, the male unknown speaker, sat in the chair with stiff posture and the air of regality very much like Ken's. He rose from his seat and swept into a graceful bow. Miyako stared at the top of his crown of fawn-colored hair. At least a head shorter than her, he straightened from his bow. His face was set and serious, features stern but attractive. His skin was pale—but slightly darker than alabaster porcelain.

"Likewise, madam. It is a delight to make your acquaintance. I am Iori Hida." Iori extended a thin hand and Miyako shook it. His grip was cold and efficient.

"It's nice to finally know you," Miyako added with an awkward laugh. Iori's eyes, deep jade and dark, seemed to bore into the very center of her soul; like he could see through her.

As he sat down, the other guest stood up from her graceful position perched on the chair. Miyako couldn't help but feel her jaw fall. The girl moved in such refined elegance that Miyako felt sure royalty envied her. She smiled in an angelic fashion, resembling very much an angel. Short hazel locks fell longer in front, amazingly contrasted with beautiful porcelain skin. She smiled, showing pearl hued teeth and pale rose-colored lips.

Extending a thin, elegant hand, the girl tilted her head in a curious manner, radiating refined charm.

"Hello. I'm Hikari Yagami. Pleasure to make your acquaintance!" She clasped Miyako's shaking hand and firmly shook it, not noticing Miyako's awe of her.

Miyako gave her a meek greeting, and sat down in the seat quietly, still unable to take her eyes off Hikari. So this was whom Daisuke kept talking of. He wasn't exaggerating, Miyako thought with a grimace. Once again the comparison of Hikari and Miyako was Aphrodite and the ogre.

So immersed in thought, Miyako didn't notice the plate set down in front of her and as if in a trance, poked absentmindedly at her wheatcakes. She took in the conversation between the other three whilst amazingly ignoring Daisuke's savage table manners. Iori, seeming so strict and quiet, seemed talkative and playful around them, while even Ken seemed to forget his severe expression.

There conversation was a light, cheery banter; detailing various problems that were happening in their kingdom, as well as gossip between the villagers. Miyako scanned the two new acquaintances' attire. Iori was wearing a plain navy blue tunic, low quality linen. Underneath, he had on dark brown colored riding pants and his feet were swamped in worn leather boots that were clearly a few sizes too large. Iori was animatedly still talking about his encounter with the grocer that boasted the largest fruit in the market, but also claimed that they had excellent protein; jabbing at the table with his fingers to illustrate the double meaning impression that he'd given everyone.

Hikari giggled prettily, unconsciously drawing Miyako's attention to herself. She wore a fresh sky blue habit-like tunic, beginning in a v-neck shape and plunging straight around her bent arms, sleeves pooling on the table, emphasizing her slender shape. Underneath, Miyako could tell she was dressed in a crisp white shift, pure as the driven snow. One side of her hair had been held up with a fuchsia colored barrette in the front, complimenting her enigmatic deep amber eyes perfectly.

Miyako burned with unknown jealously that she guiltily squashed down uneasily. The way she spoke with Ken, familiar as family, and the way he laughed at every joke she made; all of this stoked the raging fire of envy growing and growing inside Miyako. On top of that, whenever Miyako had spoken about how others 'sometimes treated me according to my face', Hikari had stared straight at her with those horribly unfathomable amber orbs full of mirth; smiling at her.

After listening further to Hikari talking about her collection of books, Miyako felt she couldn't bear those laughing eyes anymore. Leaving her cake uneaten, Miyako excused herself and scrubbed her dish; having donated the remains of her breakfast to the ever-hungry Daisuke.

Perching on the edge of her bed, Miyako sighed dejectedly. How horrible she must have looked to Hikari! She could hear the scraping of chairs in the kitchen, signaling the leaving of the occupants. Moments later, Daisuke entered her room, manners forgotten about knocking. His brow furrowed into a frown.

"Miyako. Something wrong? You seemed upset."

"No, nothing's wrong."

He raised his eyebrow in question. "Remember what I said? We are the kind of people that are horrible liars. And you, no doubt have just proven my point."

She scowled at him. "None of your business, Daisuke. I'm _fine_."

He snorted. "You are an **awful** liar. Spill it. What's wrong?"

Miyako frowned in defeat. Evil Daisuke. "You wouldn't understand," she retorted. It was true enough. Daisuke shrugged with a grin. "Well, if you never tried you wouldn't know. You know, I'm actually a lot more comprehensive than you people think."

Miyako gave up. "I don't think it's funny to be silently laughed at by Hikari."

"What?"

"I can see the laughter in her eyes, you know. Whenever she looks at me, I can see it. I guess…I'm jealous of her."

"Jealous of Hikari? Why would you—besides the obvious—be jealous of her? Sure she's pretty, popular, got royal blood, a great position, okay, maybe you're right, but she's missing so many things. Hikari's parents passed away several years ago, probably poisoned. She knew who it was, but no one listened. The traitor escaped, and now she's only got her brother. She can't see either. Lost her vision in a horrible situation. I would see why she'd be jealous of you, free as a bird, not tied down. When you were talking about your face, she couldn't tell how you looked and assumed you were saying you were treated nicely because you were pretty."

Miyako flinched in shame. "I'm sorry."

Daisuke waved it off. "Come on! Today I brought my sword. I wanted to show you something!"

Before Miyako could respond, an excited Daisuke dragged her off. Past the living room, where Hikari waved to them, hearing Daisuke's rough dragging and Miyako's halfhearted protests, they went. Daisuke invited her to join them, but she politely refused, insisting that she needed to leave soon. Iori and Ken were no different, so Daisuke happily lead Miyako to the garden.

Miyako, having never seen the garden, gazed around eagerly. A multitude of shades of lush green shocked her eyes, varying from the mellowest yellow to the most brilliant neon to jade hues so deep that it could've been black. Herbs and medical plants grew abundantly in a patch half-in half-out of shade provided by an elm, and several tall grasses quivered and whispered at the slightest breath.

A grapevine grew entangled with a thin wire, woven into an intricate design. Although the vine was flourishing and the leaves ripe; it bore no grapes. Near the whitewashed walls of the cottage were rosebushes, branches fat and luscious; leaves darkest emerald. Miyako traced a branch with her finger gently, avoiding the thorns, relishing the smooth texture and reliving moments from her memory.

Something struck her as odd, and her eyes widened in question. "Why are there no buds or roses on these bushes? I thought that this was the season for them," she asked Daisuke.

He sighed heavily, impaling the tip of the wooden stick-that-was-substituting-the-sword-because-the-real-thing-would-be-too-dangerous into the soft dirt. "I guess you'd have to ask Ken. His plants are always weird. Something about 'enchanted foliage that reflects the heart of the master'. I dunno," Daisuke concluded with a shrug, as if dismissing the subject.

Miyako suddenly became aware of the other plants in the garden. She scanned the trees that bordered the garden and the forest behind them, cherry, apple, apricot, peach, Hawthorne, pear, crab apple, Miyako named, recognizing the leaves. All beautifully healthy, fertile and verdant, but not a flower bud nor young fruit graced the foliage laden branches.

Miyako turned her eyes back toward Daisuke, burnt sienna silently apologizing to cold umber. Daisuke cheerfully broke the mood by swinging the dirt encrusted freed stick-sword in an elaborate motion. "That would be a plane tree. It's got no fruit to begin with. Do you wanna see me or not?"

Miyako sat down on a wooden bench, absentmindedly stroking the beech wood as Daisuke announced his performance. Daisuke swung his sword around at invisible enemies, naming each maneuver and fierce stroke. Miyako watched with interest as Daisuke severed a head and rendered a limb from the imaginary foe. Watching him dance with his sword as a partner reminded her of the courtiers, how they were forever twirling with such speed and grace that it was dizzying to watch. How she had yearned to join them but was forbidden. She applauded him.

She stood.

"Daisuke, I want to use the sword. I've used it before, and I know how to wield it."

It came out more of a command than the casual question she planned, but it wasn't easy to keep the demanding tone out of her voice now that she had overcome her shyness. At home, Miyako had every comfort she asked for, aside from company, and servants had always bustled and rushed to do her bidding. She winced.

Daisuke stopped spinning it, looking at her in an odd way. He held up the sword, point facing the sky, as if it yearned to pierce the blue.

"You? Can you do it well enough not to kill yourself?" he asked in a solemn tone.

Miyako frowned in agitation. They all underestimated her, didn't think her enough to swing a thin piece of metal. She nodded. Daisuke wordlessly handed over the sword, tip dangling loosely toward the ground, gravity urging it to plunge into the earthy soil. He plopped down on the bench next to where she was previously seated, crossing his legs as he waited to see the display.

Miyako took the hilt, receiving a small shock as she noted that it felt frigid. _Cold as the Artic wind_. Inspecting the weapon carefully, she observed the simple design, the maker obviously lacking skill. Yet when she swung it, the thin long blade sang through the air and sliced the breeze, having fine balance despite the length of the blade. It filled her with a strange feeling, intoxicating somehow. _I have control… _The strange ecstasy of power, an aura of some sort that made her dizzy and thrilled.

It felt dangerous.

Miyako mentally slapped herself for being so insane. _If you keep doing that, you're going to go insane. It's just a sword. You've handled these before._ The voice in her head again. Perhaps her conscience?

Whirling the blade through the air with expertise, Miyako repeated Daisuke's course, also decapitating the translucent enemies and dismembering fearsome foe with grace. The only thing she could do with grace. When she snuck glances at Daisuke, she could see that he was grinning.

Wiping her head of sweat, she dipped in a quick shallow vow and was awarded Daisuke's enthusiastic clapping. Propping the weapon on a tree, Miyako plopped down next to Daisuke and gratefully accepted some water.

"Fancy."

Miyako scowled. "Just fancy?"

"Yup. Too fancy. You learned this for show, I learned it for killing."

"Well, I'm not the one on the battlefield. You're here a lot. Haven't you got any family that would rather have you home?"

"I've got a sister; Jun," he shrugged. "She's working a lot, and not home very much. We have to support ourselves, and I don't make enough, so she has to make up for it. Anyway, when I do get paid, I risk my life, and nowadays I don't get much because I'm not a captain anymore."

"What about your parents? Are they…?"

"My mother, yes. She passed away a few years back. My dad left us a long time ago. He was an alcoholic. We weren't rich, you see."

Prompting him to go on, Miyako successfully pulled his life story out. She held wonders with manipulation.

"I met Takeru and Hikari when I was five or so. I knew Iori and Ken since I was six. I was raised in a village bordering the Kido kingdom. Just my mother, father, sister, and I. We were pretty poor. My mother worked as a midwife, and my dad was a farmer. My mom wasn't paid very much, and she wasn't home often. My father was a horrible farmer and messed up his plants all of the time. So one day when I was eight, he quit and decided to go to the town to find better work. What do you know? He got robbed and drunk. Then when he came home, he's heavily intoxicated and in huge debt. To pay for it, we had to sell the farm. Unfortunately, my mother couldn't do it, because she was with child and sick; but the guy demanded that we pay back the money immediately. My dad was addicted by then, and squandered all of our money on wine. When we ran out, he stole." Daisuke looked at his feet, twitching them pointlessly. His eyes were heavy with emotional pain.

"The law caught up with him eventually, and he ended up in prison, still with debt. To bail him out, Jun had to sell the farm, but she couldn't argue her way to a fair deal. We got paid less than the farm was worth. When we bailed our father out, he wasn't the father we knew. He didn't know us, and continued stealing. All of that time, our mother was falling ill more. To get the money for a doctor, Jun sold herself as a servant for two years. When the doctor came, all he did was subscribe expensive medicine, like powder of unicorn horn and tiger whisker with ground pearls."

There was a cold tone in his voice; sharp as the sword blade he toyed with.

"Then when she was ready to deliver, all we could afford was an inexperienced midwife. The baby was born dead. My mother was hit hard. She died a few weeks later, whether from the illness or grief, I don't know. We sold everything we had to buy her a coffin. And what did my father do? He gambles everything away to get more wine. We tried talking to him, but he just ignored us or hit us. He said he didn't recognize us. In the end, we buried our mother by the forest with a rock we painted for a marker, with no coffin. Eventually, Jun manages to work two jobs, a servant by day and a rat catcher by night. I worked in a field, gathering onions and potatoes and everything else in the ground from dawn to dusk. We managed to get a small rundown hut. Jun would come home sometimes and collapse in the doorway. I was so scared that she would die of stress. We survived on the wages we made and the produce I stole from the fields. It was really risky, and I could lose much more than my job if I was caught," Daisuke traced sloppy circles in the dirt with the sword point. He held out his palm and Miyako could see the traces of old blisters that had probably come from pulling weeds with razor edges and stubborn roots. She placed her hand under his and gently traced the blisters with gloom, as if she could make them disappear.

Not withdrawing his hand, Daisuke continued, "We were actually lucky, compared to the other orphans on the street. They couldn't work and had no home. The patrols would often drive them away or beat them. Then one day, Jun happens by Hikari and her brother, Taichi. They're nobility; nephew and niece of the Yagami King. So when she tells them her story, they go home and convince their uncle to help them. They were only children, so he didn't take them very seriously, but we got a nicer home and I got a place in the army as a messenger and assistant with medicine. Jun got an apprenticeship from a blacksmith. By then Takeru had disappeared. I was ten years old. So, here I am now."

Miyako sullenly gave him her sympathy. He masked his pain well. She would never have guessed at the depth of his eyes, always so cheerful. She'd always prided herself on reading people's eyes.

"Don't be. My father's probably in debtor's prison, and I don't care. I've got an awesome sister and great friends. I have a roof over my head and enough to eat that I don't go hungry. Who needs him?" Daisuke grinned. "Now that I've spilled my life story, I think it's time you tell me who you are."

Miyako grimaced. He was right. _Oh well. They were bound to find out. But Daisuke probably won't tell anyone. I'll be all right. Compared to him, my life was luxurious and I was ungrateful._

"Alright. But promise me you won't tell anyone." Daisuke nodded. Miyako inhaled deeply. _Here goes_.

"I'm the second daughter of King Inoue. The _'Ugly Princess'._" She sat back and waited for Daisuke's reaction.

Ugh, that was a terrible ending. Sorry this took a month. Even though I promised myself that I wouldn't be like those other authors that take so long to update, I still took just as long. Okay, I've tried to make Daisuke's past interesting but it didn't really work.

On my Microsoft word document, the side bar (the one that controls the up and down of the document) has disappeared. I can't find it. It's version 2000. If anyone could help me with this problem, I'd appreciate it.

From now on, I am determined to finish at minimum a chapter, (3000 words at least), every fortnight.

There were only two reviews last chapter, but I stick by my word. I'll finish as long as there is at least one review, but please! A minute out of your life to leave a sentence of critique will be greatly appreciated.

If anyone would like to beta for this story, please contact me. I'm not really in need of one, but I often have writer's block and am horrible at humor. So preferably someone that has a lot of ideas and a sense of humor, and can respond within five days.

Next chapter: Follow as Miyako meets Yamato (?), meets Taichi, finds out Ken's past, sees Hikari's home (?), and develops a bond with Iori.


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